The Dragon Smith
by holothewolf16
Summary: The story of a young man wondering weather or not he is doing the right thing to protect the people. Follow him as he encounters good times and hard time that will test his will. Will he rise. or. will. he. fall. (Rated M for a reason and not because of lemons)


**A.N.: Hey every one, sorry I haven't updated for a bit. I'm actually working on a few stories at once so I am admittedly a bit overwhelmed and could use some help. If any of you wish to help just PM me and I will fill you in on the details. Now, something before the disclaimer, the OC in this story is MEANT to be OP, I meant to do that, because his is not a struggle to get stronger for any reason, but a struggle of weather or not he is truly doing the right thing. I will explain more at the end. Now onto the disclaimer.**

 **I do not own RWBY or any other thing I make references to, they each belong to their individual owners, now without further ado, onto the story**

* * *

 ** ** **Prolougue******

In the back of a small Dust shop called **'From Dust 'Till Dawn'** a large man is hunched over working on an old Dust generator in the dark. He presses a button and it roars to life and he smirks in victory... until it dies, making his eyebrow twitch in annoyance. He sighs and starts looking for the problem. After finding none he checks the LDFC (Lightning Dust Fuel Cell), only to find it empty. He stands, walks over to a nearby shelf, and starts rummaging around for a full LDFC, eventually finding one. He walks back to the generator and replaces the empty LDFC for the full one. He starts it again and smiles as it stays on... and then promptly dies again. His smile does not falter, though his eyebrow does twitch again, as he kicks the machine, making it roar back to life. He nods as the lights flicker on and reveal his form. He is a large man, standing at a massive seven feet tall with a shoulder length of three feet, with a stern but pleasant face. He is bald with suspiciously draconian horns protruding from his forehead, curving around the crown of his head so they go over his slightly pointed ears, and curve upward near the back of his head.

He wears a black breast plate with out any pauldrons with a red rising dragon on a field of black, black armored arm guards, and black cargo pants that are held up by a red chain belt with a small steel hook on his left side and tucked into a pair of combat boots. He walks over to two separate stacks of crates, and more specifically, what is leaning against and on them. Leaning against the crates on his left side is a large war hammer. Weighing at forty pounds, and standing at a height of four feet eleven inches, the hammer is nothing short of monstrous. With the head being in the shape of a hexagon on the striking end and the declines into a wedge. A red rubber cable comes out of the head, coils down the shaft, and feeds into the red metal that makes up the handle, witch has a hole near the bottom so he can hang it from the hook on his belt. The head and shaft are colored obsidian black.

He hooks his hammer to his belt, then looks at object laying on top of the crates to his right. Its a Kite Shield. It's front is colored plain obsidian black with the trim being red. It stands at five and a half feet tall, two and a half feet wide, and a inch thick. On the back of the shield, near the top left corner and protruding out about three inches out of the shield, is a ten by twelve inches metal box. He slides the shield onto his back and lets the hidden magnets hold the shield in place.

The man's name is Draco Dragonguard, Leader of the Dragonguard Mercenary Company. A young man of only 18 years, Draco is one of the last, if not THE last, Dragon Faunes to exist. With his massive frame he has to duck and turn sideways to get through most doors. Despite his intimidating appearance, he is actually very gentle and compassionate, but as the leader and owner of a mercenary company he was required to have an iron fist.

The Dragonguard were a mercenary company on paper only, in reality they are more of a Security Firm. The Dragonguard has five air fleets, with twenty three airships each. They have been protecting Remnent to the best of their ability for close to three hundred and seventy five years, when Draco's great grand father founded it, making it older than any of the four kingdoms, much to the anger of the ruling bodies of the Kingdoms, especially Atles. Atles has the biggest military of the four, even managing to field their own air fleet. However, the Dragonguard's military might dwarfs that of Atles, much to the anger of General Ironwood. In recent times the Dragonguard had given support and protection to the White Fang until they turned violent, and when they had started harming innocent people Draco had officially declared that they were no longer the White Fang, The Unbloodied Fang of the Faunes, no he had rebranded them as the Red Claw, The Bloody Claw of the Grimm. The Dragonguard had the founded a new Faunes Rights Group who had taken up the White Fang name. At each rally, boycott, protest, and civil rights meeting you could find the area protected by Dragonguard elite troops, both Human and Faunes, showing that the Dragonguard refused to judge by race. The Dragonguard employed many Huntsmen and Huntresses and sent them on missions to villages all across the world to help the people of Remnent, doing anything from helping build up towns, heal the sick, stop crime, teach in schools, train militia members, hunt down bandits and high threat level Grimm, and guard nomad caravans. Many of the villages and towns that hired the Dragonguard to protected them often asked the Dragonguard to move in permanently, and many of the Dragonguard's troops came from these villages.

After collecting his belongings, Draco walks out the door, deciding to visit the next day to see the old man, after all, the old man is a retired veteran of the Dragonguard, as well as Draco's mentor.

* * *

 **A.N.: Okay keep in mind the spelling is not meant to be perfect so there will be errors, if you could tell me the word and how it is actually spelled it would be appreciated. Now, as the leader of such a company of warriors he has to take the burden seriously because if he doesn't make the right choice, PEOPLE WILL DIE. He also has to worry about weather each person is getting the money to live off of, that their equipment is up to snuff, and countless other things. Now with that out of the way, I bid you all fare well**


End file.
